The Ballad of Liz and James - 1

I’m in a long distance relationship. A very long distance
relationship. The distance between Oxford in England, and Austin,
where The Girlfriend lives, is 4,653 miles, and this distance poses
many challenges. 4,653 of those challenges are self-evident. The
4,654^th challenge is US Immigration (or whatever it calls
itself this week), especially when you’re making your fifth trip of
the year. The first couple of times I flew direct to Austin. I said
“I’m visiting The Girlfriend” and the bored officers waved me
through. The third time I came through Houston. The officer was
really friendly. “Just a word of advice sir, entry to the USA is
entirely at the immigration officer’s discretion. I know you’re a
good guy, but if you come too many times some officers may get
suspicious.” He sent me on my way with a wave and a smile. He was
so lovely I didn’t realise he’d given me a warning till I thought
about it a week later.

The fourth time I came through Atlanta. The questions came like
machine gun fire.

“Why are you here?”

“Where are you staying?”

“How much money do you have?”

“How much do you have on your credit cards?”

“Who’s looking after your house?

“Show me your return ticket.”

He eventually let me through, but it’s OK, I’ve still got time to
make my connection. Then I was selected for a “random” baggage
search.

“But I’ll be late for my flight!”

“Well the sooner we do the search sir the sooner you’ll be
there.”

I was searched then ran with my bags to security and joined the
queue, checking my watch every few seconds. It was my turn next. I
might still make it. That’s when they waved six wheelchairs in
front of me. (Not their fault I know.) I arrived at the gate as they
were closing the plane door and my heart wasn’t friends with me any
more.

You know what it’s like when you’re all settled in and ready for
take-off and the last person on-board does that walk of shame down
the aisle? You know how all eyes glare at the idiot who’s caused
the delay? Ladies and gentlemen, I am that idiot.

This time I came prepared to prove I had no intention of staying in
the US. I had paper copies of the lease agreement on my Oxford house,
the council tax, and the accounts of my UK company.

“I’m visiting The Girlfriend” I bleated pathetically, preparing
for the onslaught.

He didn’t even look up. “Have a good trip sir.”

I started to move away in shock and disbelief.

“Oh and sir!” I froze then looked back where the officer was
waving something at me. “Don’t forget your passport.”